Today is Pot Day, or April 20, or 4/20, or 420, which is like what the crime number is for pot or something. I don’t remember what the 420 means for sure, because I’ve never been into pot.

I never saw it in high school, despite 73% of our class’s parties being at my house. It’s possible I wasn’t looking for it. I’ve always been adverse to inhaling smoke, and my body has never taken to to it. The only cigar I ever smoked made me throw up.

In total, I’ve done pot only three times, and each was worse than the last.

My experiences:

1) Graham’s Woods – The summer after high school, my friend Graham, another friend, and myself went into Graham’s woods and did doobies around a campfire. At first I didn’t feel anything but lung pain, then Graham told us he’d laced it with PCP, and a little after that I fell over and rolled around in the leaves.

I don’t remember much else but I think there was an RV.

2) Fraternity House – I moved into my fraternity my second quarter in college, and there was plenty of pot there. I did some at a massive party one night in someone’s room, then spent the rest of the night in that same spot, staring at the wall.

The whole thing was boring and made my lungs hurt, plus that same RV showed up. This time it asked me to come inside.

3) Parents House – This was during one of the summers home from college. It had to be the first one, since I only went to school for a year and a half. The circumstances behind this party elude me, but for some reason a bunch of my friends were there, and a bunch of my parents’ friends, and a bunch of my family.

At some point we were in my bedroom and someone was smoking pot out of some combination of…an apple and a beer can? Is this possible? The smoke was blowing out my window, but I remember my Mom banging on the door asking what we were doing, so I think she smelled the mystical combination of marijuana, Granny Smith, and Miller Lite.

In any case, I ended up staring at a wall for the rest of the night, and then went into the woods to stare at that wall from an alternative angle.

Late that night, after the party had ended, the RV came and invited me inside, where it finally revealed its secrets.

I’ve since been offered pot many times since and always declined, as it makes me comatose, it hurts my lungs, and there’s nothing more to learn from the Doobies RV.

Some people are fun (and even functional) on it, but I much prefer

Are you doing doobies today.